Heartbroken at a High School
by Tears of Deathwishxxx
Summary: Heartbreak investigates a school shooting


**9:45 AM**

**MEN'S ROOM, LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL**

**PROM WEEK- COSPLAY DAY**

15-year old Samson Grey, dressed in black cargo pants, a Type IV armor jacket with a black shirt underneath, a loaded grenade belt, and a bullet-riddled duster previously owned and discarded by vigilante Damijin Spade, sat in a stall at the men's room in his small-town high school. His school wasn't very big, but its wrestling team was the only thing it had going for them. Until this year.

Multiple state championships for every weight class in the last 15 years. Every season, the team was undefeated under their coach, Hugh Francis.

Until now.

* * *

Samson joined the team, one of the best things smokin' on the mat.

A prodigy.

And an mistake at the state championships cost them their 16th title in the 160 pound division.

Samson had the guy wrapped up with nowhere to go in the third period....but he didn't realize that he was on his own back. And the referee slapped the mat after a five count.

There went the sweep.

And his teammates, or his school, wouldn't let Samson forget it.

His teammates had assaulted him as he headed back to his car.

His classmates were constantly riding his ass about it.

His girl broke up with him.

And no adult would do anything about it. They turned him away.

* * *

So now, here young Samson was.

Ready to shut everyone the fuck up.

If motherfuckers weren't gonna give Samson the respect he once had, he was gonna take that shit.

And as _Pistol, Pistol_ by D-12 blared in his ears through his iPod, Samson finished loading up the magazines of his twin Uzis with .22 Long Rifle hollow points before holstering them at his sides. He pulled out a nickel-plated Colt .45 from a black bag slung on his belt and holstered it under his arm.

Apparently, there was going to be some kind of big-scale battle.

And suddenly, the song switched to _Real Niggas Roll Call _by Lil' Jon and the Eastside Boyz feat. Ice Cube as Samson stood up and kicked the door open after loading an African MAG-7M1 short-barreled shotgun and cocking it before concealing it under his jacket.

On his back was a bullet-resistant riot shield that got off of a fallen SWAT officer in case it was gonna get hot and he'd have to go up against SWAT.

Pulling the elastic mask up over his mouth and nose, Samson became void of emotion as he opened the bathroom door.

_Lunchtime...._

Samson stepped out of the bathroom and headed toward the cafeteria. He knew the hall would be empty because classes had begun...

_Respect is all that matters to me. There's no turning back..._

Sam stepped into the cafeteria and looked around before his eyes rested on the where his old teammates were all sitting. They were laughing and eating.

Having a good time.

_That_ would soon _end_.

His black hair in a ponytail, Samson stood before his teammates, all 13 of them.

"What's up?"

Two of the wrestlers looked at each other and back at Samson.

"Is that Grey?"

Samson's eyes never left them.

"Of course," he replied.

"Man, get the fuck outta here, Delilah."

Sam smiled from behind the mask before turning around to walk away.

"Yeah, that's what you better do."

And Samson turned back around, the MAG in his hands. His teammates' eyes widened before laughing.

"This fool is crazy. Comin' to school with a prop weapon," said team captain David Roswell.

And Samson fired the weapon, taking off half the captain's head and striking another teammate in the shoulder.

Silence.

And then...

Screams rang out through the cafeteria as people got up from their tables and ran like hell.

Samson's teammates tried to escape, only for him to shoot four of them in the back with the remaining rounds of the shotgun before discarding it. And suddenly, he drew the Uzi twins and fired in random directions.

"Now hear this!" screamed Samson, as he fired into the fleeing crowd.

He managed to get six of them before moving on. But as he did, he pulled a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button.

"Don't call me Samson Grey. It's Sam Red."

As the crowd of students and teachers trying to calm them down ran, an explosion blew the ground from under them as they fell to the first floor of the school....

* * *

**Taking side streets....just riding around...**

17-year old Torrance Spade, commonly known as the vigilante Heartbreak and son of the Snypa and the Black Rose, was driving around and listening to _Price to Play _from Staind's 14 Shades of Grey album when the police scanner in the passenger seat came on.

"All units: we have a 417. Shots fired. Possible multiple 187's at Heartridge High. Nearest unit, check it out."

A school shooting? Torrance knew these all too well. Some white kid went berserk at his school. The guy was a quiet little motherfucker. Torrance didn't know much about him, but the guy was tormented daily.

He was smart as hell. Knew certain things inside and out.

* * *

**Flashback:**

On various occasions, Torrance had asked Max to ask some of the Dark Hearts to be Rickey Trenton's bodyguards throughout school.

One day, the Hearts had to go watch one of their homeboys play a one-on-one game of basketball.

And in that instant that the crew weren't around, Rickey suffered his ultimate humiliation: kidnapped, dragged to a locker room, and covered in liquefied dog shit while leaving the principal's office to report his tormentors.

Pictures were posted all over the school.

And even the principal had turned him away because he was in a meeting and told him he'd hear him out the next day.

But little did Principal James Kinder know, there would be no tomorrow come then next day.

The night after that incident, Torrance found the four guys responsible leaving from seeing a move and physically instilled the fear of God himself in them. He visited Rickey afterward, telling him that those guys would never again bother him.

Rickey stared at his laptop blankly, and nodded as he turned to Torrance.

"You're right, Torro. After tomorrow, _no one_ will mess with me again."

"What do you mean by that, dude?"

Rickey remained silent.

"Just don't go to school tomorrow, Torrance. Tomorrow, school's out-- for good."

Torrance realized something was wrong. After he left Rickey's house, he called the boy's father.

"Mr. Trenton, something's been really wrong with Rickey because he's been talking crazy. He says that tomorrow, school will be out for good. He might get himself hurt.

The boy's father rebuffed Torrance's warning, insisting that he would get his son some help and that nothing would happen.

But the next day, when Torrance showed up at school, he saw Rickey dressed in camouflage with army green paint on his face. Torro tried to see what was going on with the boy he was trying so hard to protect.

"Torrance, go home. Call off your friends. You and your gang do not need to be mixed up in this." Rickey said.

And Torrance nodded, but went into the school anyway.

Rickey: "Torro?"

The then-future Heartbreak turned around.

Torro: "Yeah?"

Rickey: "Promise me you'll stay away from the gyms?"

Torro, nodding: "Fine."

Rickey: "Thank you."  
---------------------

While Torro was in the bathroom, he heard automatic gunfire and instantly knew who it was. He rushed out of the restroom and headed toward the source, noticing a bunch of students screaming and running. He fought through the oncoming crowd, and heard more gunfire.

This time coming from the principal's office. Remembering that he called on his father as a last resort to stop Rickey from doing something he'd regret, Damijin Spade gave his son a pair of flashbang grenades.  
--------------------

"Son, this is the second gift that I have given you. If there is to be gun violence tomorrow and you want to stop your friend, then you'll only have one moment to do so. After that, it is up to you whether you live or die."  
------------------------------

Torrance stood beside the broken glass door before stepping inside, crouching alongside the counter. He could hear whimpers.

"Please don't...."

"You should've listened to me, Mr. Kinder. But you didn't. You're guilty by association."

Torrance recognized the voice.

Before Rickey could do anything, he stood up.

"Rickey!"

The young and crazed gunman turned around.

"Torrance? I thought I told you to leave."

"I can't do that," he said. "Please, you gotta stop this."

"I can't do that, Torro. He _has_ to die."

"Dude, it's people that fuck with me," Torrance replied. "And I beat their asses, simple as that. I know what you feelin', but I don't feel like I gotta _kill_ somebody."

Rickey turned his Colt on Torrance.

"Well, if you're not part of the solution..."

He cocked it...

"Then you're part of--"

By the time Rickey had raised his gun to Torrance, the pin on the M84 had been pulled and the grenade thrown. The future Heartbreak dove backward out of the door, landing in glass as the grenade detonated.

His arms cut up and bloody, Torrance realized his friend's disorientation and ran back inside. He grabbed the gunman's wrist with his right hand to effectively remove the weapon. Then he followed up by kicking Rickey's legs from under him as SWAT officers came running in with submachine guns drawn....

* * *

**Present Time:**

He floored the gas in his black Dodge Viper, heading toward the school ASAP. As he gunned the engine, Torrance's hand fumbled with a latch on the ceiling of the Viper and on his lap dropped a Colt 9mm SMG, fully loaded and complete with a wide-range scope.

When he got to the scene, Torrance saw the area swamped with cops, armed to the teeth with shotguns, MP5s and Glock 22s.

And so, Torrance would have to find a way in that didn't involve running through cops.

* * *

Samson was having a blast, executing the people that had done him wrong.

The people who taunted him ruthlessly.

The people who made his school year a living hell.

And it was payback time, in spades.

Reloading his Uzis, Samson stormed through the halls of his school, looking for more of his tormentors to exact sweet justice on. As he walked, he looked through the frosted glass and saw red.

Sirens.

That could only mean one thing.

_Cops, _Samson said in his mind.

Putting his Israeli submachine guns away, Samson took the riot shield from off of his back.

But why wasn't he holding a weapon?

Ironically, the next song on Samson's iPod was _Fuck Tha Police _by NWA. He needed to prevent Johnny Law from entering the school and ruining his crusade.

But what he didn't realize was that the cops should've been the last thing on his mind.

As he headed toward the main entrance of the school, someone burst out of a door into a shoulderblock move straight into Samson's shield that sent him up against a locker. Samson didn't have time to get a good look at his attacker as he pushed him back off with the shield and followed up with a shot to the temple with the riot shield, knocking him out.

* * *

Torrance was listening to _Natural Born Killaz_ on his own iPod, the Colt 9mm out in front of him. When he turned the corner, he saw someone lying on the ground. But what got his attention was the guy standing above him with a riot shield.

_That_ had to be the shooter.

When the shooter decided to move on, he saw the Colt SMG trained on him. But it wasn't a cop.

"H-Heartbreak..."

"Mind tellin' me what's got you so riled up you'd shoot up a school?" asked Torrance.

Samson didn't go for his gun, instead he turned the corner in a sprint. Torrance went after him, catching up to the shooter enough to tackle him.

Samson got up quickly, kicking Torro's Colt SMG away.

"Back off, man. This ain't got nothin' to do with you!" Samson yelled as he threw his shield to the side.

Torrance got up.

"_Wrong._ This has everything to do with me. This is what I do: protect the innocent from people like you."

Torrance could see the intent in Samson's eyes. It was unmistakable.

It was the look of murderous intent. But then the look changed.

"I would expect _you_ of all people to understand! Wouldn't nobody help me when I needed them! This is how it gotta be, man!"

Torrance didn't know what to say. He had never been a victim of bullying before. But he knew what the score was.

"Nah. This ain't how it gotta be. If niggas shot your moms and pops down in the street and raped your sister, then I could see," Torrance said, picking up his Colt SMG.

"I knew it! I fuckin' knew it! Man, you just like them!" Samson screamed.

And as Samson went for the .45 in the front of his pants, Torrance cut into him with a wave of nine millimeter rounds and watched him drop to his knees. As blood dropped to the school floor, Samson stood up with his weapon drawn and the safety.

Torrance fired the Colt at Samson's hand, making him drop the weapon and giving him a hard time counting past six on his fingers.

He advanced as the bleeding Samson sat against some lockers and looked up at his own Colt .45 ACP pointed at his head.

"Fuckin' do it, Heartbreak. I've got what I've come for."

"You'll find real redemption soon," Torrance replied.

A single shot later, and Heartbreak walked away as he heard fast-approaching footsteps coming hard...


End file.
